


Burning

by SongsofSirenSouls



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, I tried to keep it general tho, Spoilers for Chapter X
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongsofSirenSouls/pseuds/SongsofSirenSouls
Summary: Just a little something after finishing Chapter X of the Julian route. Spoilers if you squint at it hard enough. Written as my female apprentice Reia, but unnamed in the text.





	Burning

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I own nothing except Reia, my apprentice, everything else belongs to the beautiful souls at Nix Hydra who created the Arcana.

It’s a funny thing, hope. It scuttles and gutters, flicking so faintly that it seems but a breath away from oblivion. As if the very thought of it may snuff the fragile thing out. Shattering it forever, lost to the shadowy realms of despair.

And yet. Yet…

Hope burns on, an infinitesimally small point in an otherwise starless sky. Igniting the darkest nights, the moments where it would be so easy, so very easy, to just let go. To give in, to give up. Surrender to the seemingly inevitable and let the spark die.

It is that breakable thing that smolders beneath her ribs in that moment, that breathless, impossible moment. Flaring to life, it roars, racing through veins and bones, freeing flesh frozen in horror. It inflates her stuttering lungs and electrifies limbs gone numb and useless in the wake of his words.

She almost let it go. In the endless void between the declaration leaving his lips and the moment that their eyes catch. Almost cast the dream of a future together into the wind. A fantasy, not something could be made real and true.

It’s in his eye, meeting hers across a distance that is both so very far and impossibly close, that she sees something that makes her pause. That stays her hand and makes her clutch tightly the pipedream of “together,” wrapping it tightly round her bones, weaving it into the very fabric of her soul. In that soft gray orb, shining out across the sea of space between them, she spies something new.

Hope.

She sees hope.


End file.
